Strange! And Bezers too was unmoved.

He stood between the poor woman and the door, and by a gesture bid Mirepoix and the priest pass out before him.
"Madame," he said--and his voice, stern and hard as ever, expressed no jot of compassion for her, rather such an impatient contempt as a puling child might elicit--"you are safe here.

And here you will stop! Weep if you please," he added cynically, "you will have fewer tears to shed to-morrow." His last words--they certainly were odd ones--arrested her attention.
She checked her sobs, being frightened I think, and looked up at him.
Perhaps he had spoken with this in view, for while she still stood at gaze, her hands pressed to her bosom, he slipped quickly out and closed the door behind him.

I heard a muttering for an instant outside, and then the tramp of feet descending the stairs.

They were gone, and we were still undiscovered.
For Madame, she had clean forgotten our presence--of that I am sure--and the chance of escape we might afford.